Mindy's Plan
by SwampGirl
Summary: Mindy's plan to separate Drake and Josh forever. J/M and D/J implied only.
1. Chapter 1: Honey and Vinegar

**Title: Mindy's Plan**

**Disclaimer:** Nickelodeon and Dan Schneider own everything. I only waste time and make no money on this venture.

**Chapter One: Honey and Vinegar**

It is almost midnight at my parent's big corner lot home with its dark even lawn and neatly dusted traditional furniture. A random car drives by through the still streets of this quiet suburb. Josh sits at the dining table looking out a window, resting his arms on one another -- each perfect and shapely like the contours of a sculpture; his shirt is slightly open at the collar, showing off a well formed neck. He is lost within some pleasant memory, I guess of some adventure he had with his stepbrother by the way a hint of a smile gathers at the corners of his mouth. I close my eyes to push the thought of Drake out of my mind to concentrate on the moment. _This is it!_ I tell myself.

I shift a little to assume a cool pose against the doorway and the floorboard creaks in response. The sound causes Josh to turn from the window and look at me. His face looks so entirely guileless and possessed with an internal naive innocence yet to be marred by me. I almost feel guilty as I think of my backpack in the foyer where I have his stolen papers, but the guilt goes away when I see his blue eyes shining in the candlelight, brighter and more beautiful than I have ever seen them before. I watch him as he takes a chestful of air and as those eyes travel to my feet so carefully pedicured with Estee Lauder Peach Light lacquer, and drift up to my smoothly Salon Soulé waxed legs, then slowly towards to the carefully selected negligee the saleslady at Victoria's Secret said complimented my skin tone and flat stomach, so shiny, soft and revealing; his gaze finally rests on the pushed up and blossomed soft area of my chest and I feel myself fall right into those eyes, thanking god for those eyes.

The hints I had been giving him about tonight had been too subtle, and the realization what I am offering to him brings the flush of life to his cheeks.

He finally lets out his breath, his diaphragm shuddering.

I reach my hand out to him. He gets up slowly and crosses the room to take it. Suddenly I know this will be physical manifestation of everything I have been working for; this will create for me the life I wanted with him. "_Honey caught more flies than vinegar"_ my grandmother always said. _You're right Grandma C_, I think. _You are so right, but that is only part of it._

This may sound like a fairy tale, but it is no fairy tale, and I am no sweet princess. I admit that to you now before I tell you everything.


	2. Chapter 2: 1O

How did this obsession start? It started one day almost four years ago. Josh and I go to a public high school for kids who are upper middle-class; the kind of school where all the students dress well, have nice straight teeth and are completely and utterly boring. Naturally I had few friends because I was a bully -- the academic not tough fighter kind. I was blunt with a combative debate team way of talking, too busy issuing test warnings and reinforcing weak spots within the dumber masses to waste time with pleasantries.

That day it was just like any other normal recess period except this time everyone, and I mean everyone, was fondly reminiscing about some party on Saturday night. I was pretending to be aloof but feeling angry because it seemed to me that everyone had been invited but me. As I stood staring into my locker and sulking a couple caught my attention amongst the party-going throngs in the freshmen halls. One half of the pair was Josh -- the second place finisher of some science fairs I always won handily. He was a fat boy with big, thickly lashed eyes the color, I remember thinking at that moment, of a Siamese cat's. He was walking with one of the coolest kids in the school, Drake, therefore the incongruity of the nerd/hip partnership made me to continue to watch them. Not only did these two live in this completely separate metaphysical realities of the high school caste system, their physical difference made me chuckle. Drake was a handsome slender boy with pale freckled skin unflawed by nary a blemish. He was constantly surrounded by the pretty leggy girls whose endless anointment of praise and adulation gave him part of his Titanic sense of entitlement, the other part I suppose he was just born with. Clearly he was smack in the middle of the prime of life, because with a "D" average what was there to look forward to after high school? Oh I hated him. That finesse and swagger of a boy twice his size didn't square with my academic view of the world, it still doesn't. In comparison Josh was perpetually insecure and girl-less carrying a _glutaeus_ that challenged most seating furniture; he was also in all my honor classes as my only distant rival for valedictorian.

Drake was trying to ignore his companion, as he did with most kids he deemed unworthy, but our rotund boy matched his stride with a childlike expression full of hope. Drake with his perpetual wiseacre's half grin finally said "_Not now Josh!" _and abruptly left his fat companion standing alone. Perhaps because of my non-party invitation loneliness I was overwhelmed with an emphatic sympathy only one loser can feel for another. I walked up to Josh and stood close enough smell something floral and sweet coming from his pale doughy skin reminding me of my Great Aunt Bethe. Then, in a rare expression of nerd solidarity, I told him, "_Oh let Drake go. You know anyone that talks to him automatically loses 2 IQ points per minute_." Drake was a rocker and I always suspected that some heavy musical amp or prop had fallen on his head to make him so stupid.

Josh's smile seemed genuine, grateful even for the attention. I immediately sensed was goodness in this kid, how could there not be? He was the most nonthreatening boy. There was something reassuring about the way his fly was not zipped up, about the comfortable mound of his stomach -- a soft round belly that seemed not created as a typical fat boy shield against the cruel world ruled by only the fit and beautiful, but a happy Hotei Buddha belly that reached out to embrace everyone. "_It's OK Mindy! That's my brother!_" he replied with such sincerely felt enthusiasm and unfiltered openness I felt sorry for him.

We must have looked like a human number 10 standing next to each other, Josh and I, the extremes sorry shapes -- I being the stick thin number 1 and he the O. I knew then that we were two of a kind, two bodies that grabbed the wrong double helices for life's beauty contest, two misfits in a world that started at brutal in the kindergarten schoolyard and went downhill from there. We were eye to eye then -- who knew that in a few years he would grow another five inches in height and completely transform the prepubescent squeaky rotund kid into a erect and powerfully carved man? But his beautiful eyes and pouty lips are still the same, so perfectly full and shaped mouth then as it is today with the new strong voice that pours from it. I must digress --- I saw him _first _that day. I liked him _then_, perhaps not romantically but I saw the potential diamond. And even I was wrong because this wasn't the analogy of a rock stuck in the dirt and under the force of heat and pressure would become gem-like, Josh was already a gem we just didn't notice it yet. I'll be damned if I let anyone take him away from me _today_, not any those girls that notice him _finally_, not even his ever present now _loving _brother. _Especially _not Drake. It won't happen, I have a plan.

"_Well, sue that doctor that switched kids on your mom, you guys are nothing alike_." I told him and sauntered off before he could explain further. Thinking back, I was not much nicer to him that day than Drake was.

I later learned he and Drake were new stepbrothers, not brothers, though in all the time I've known them I have never heard them add the "step" part when referring to each other; it was and always remains "my brother". In reality, however, Drake and Josh seemed more like the incarnation of some long ago classic comedy duo they were so mismatched. It was clear Josh deferred to Drake out of love. The poor kid had such an instinct for devotion and was so easily swept off his feet by his brother. And Drake used his power in imaginative ways and always and got them into more trouble than he had pennies. I admit he wasn't cruel to Josh, however so overly concerned for his own well-being he was reckless to that of his brother's. And although I told myself I had merely anthropological interest in the pair, I could never see them together without feeling a little excited about whatever was going to happen. Because for all their lunacy and mishaps, their life together was a grand adventure.

But watching them also left me with the feeling of having been an amusement park without going on any of the rides. Nothing grand was ever happening to me, I was a mere observer. They reminded me of my own isolation: how I was cutoff from most of my own family and too busy winning and collecting academic trophies to forge friendly relationships. So perhaps I was just jealous of Drake & Josh. I hated Drake because of what he symbolized in the shallow world of high school popularity, and I just didn't know how to be friends to his sweeter hopelessly unpopular brother. If I couldn't make other friends, then maybe even little fat boy would like me either.

And as much as resented them and my classmates I also hated those teachers who were too proud to admit my knowledge was far superior to theirs -- the classic struggle of the misunderstood genius. I might not had been good at much, not sports, not boys, and may have never had enduring friendship in all of my life, but I was good at academics; I was more than good I was the BEST. And the worst petty tyrant teacher was Mrs. Hayfer who treated us students equally as though each and everyone of us were morons depriving her of her vital years, and as revenge she unanimously marked our so scores low to prove herself superior. She gave me my first and strictly undeserved B. My 4.0 was shattered. It didn't matter that everything I wrote for her was original, concise, incisive, cogent, _well _researched, _well _supported, and _well _argued, she would not give me an A because she did not like me as the smarter person. She only liked Josh. He was serious about his schoolwork and well mannered with a pleasant smile therefore always a favorite among the teachers in the school, and his eagerness to help other classmates, like his stepbrother, could only have helped earn even more endearments. These were things that I did not do, and, yes, I resented him for achieving that affection from teachers that I could not.

So I devised a devious genius scheme. It wasn't as hard as people thought it would be, to disassemble a car and reassemble in another place, this place being a Mrs. Hayfer's classroom and the car belonging to her. Most of the parts -- the electrical wiring harness, the air intake system, the exhaust system, starter motor, charging and ignitions systems can be removed as units and then you pluck through the rest. Heavy items were moved with the hoist and three desperate day laborers from the Home Depot parking lot. A good mechanic would worry about reassembling everything in reverse order, tightening bolts in a proper sequence and exactly to the car's specifications. Since I cared very little about the car and owner, I put everything back together loosely, if at all. I was just looking for the final effect, the "_up yours_" message. The final cherry on top was throwing Drake's jacket in the car. Humiliated two deadbeat birds with a one ton-capacity air hoist.

Take this advice, the destruction that you want to unleash on your enemies ends up turning on your own self. I am sure you heard the details, I was caught. Here I had played a big joke on an unpopular teacher, and tried to bring down a popular boy that probably thumbed his nose to half of the lesser humans at our school, but instead of being loved, instead of being revered as a hero to nerds and lessors alike, I was _hated _for it. Just hated. What a strange and insular life high school was. It was comprised of its own rules of conduct I just couldn't decode. I looked at my classmates incredulously at their inexorably herd-like psyches, all I could do is uselessly shake a clenched fist at them. Why are people as so eager become slaves to the high school cliques and exclusions? It was unbelievable.

I was too smart and my scores too high to be expelled permanently, but too disrespectful and dishonorable not be suspended temporarily. So that is how I found myself sitting on a couch under the glow of a natural light watt bulb in a Mental Rehabilitation Clinic with do-good therapist trying to pry out of me my "feelings". I would not talk to her. I did not smile or nod or acknowledged her existence. Even the authorities like Freud, Jung and his collective subconscious or one of the latter-day theoreticians like Fromm or Becker would have concurred that no mere therapist could tell how I could adapt to the infantile public playground that refused to recognize my superiority. And what could I tell therapist anyway? I didn't feel depressed, instead I felt detached from them all. I tried to feel something like sorry or pity or anger for what I tried to do to Drake but could only summon up a little guilt for feeling none of these things.

I was lost.


	3. Chapter 3: Melinda

**Title: Mindy's Plan**

**Disclaimer: **Nickelodeon and Dan Schneider own everything. I only waste time and make no money on this venture.

**Chapter Three: Melinda**

So for hours in my clinic dorm, a bland room done in the same white perfection as that the outer Clinic, I sat leaned forward like those bean sprouts we all had to plant in the first grade. Left by myself a hard darkness started to fall over me, like curtain closing over a movie too soon. I felt a loneliness that was so total it was like being dead already. And it was into that loneliness I was sliding and where I would dwell forever, the too-skinny friendless genius, alone. I almost succumbed there, let myself be lifted and carried like a helium balloon that slips from your hand then tumbles away over dark ridged rooftops growing smaller smaller and then disappearing all together. Then my side there was another girl, invisible to the other people at the Clinic. I had never noticed her presence before, but there she was sitting cross-legged with her back straight against the headboard.

_Who are you?_ I asked the invisible girl who looked a lot like me, but with brighter eyes set farther apart, darker thicker hair and trendier clothes.

The girl smiled and told me her name was Melinda. _We are so much better than all those people right?_ She told me, _We have a fantastic future! We will be honored and respected. Pulitzer prizes, Noble prizes!_

_"But I am unhappy NOW. I want to be happy _today_. How do I do that Melinda?"_

Melinda threw her head back and laughed out loud, cackled really. _"You never will be. Besides, no one will ever appreciate you like I do. It will always be just me and you."_

_"Shut up!" _I yelled putting my hands up to my ears and squeezing my eyes closed. _"Go away!"_

_"Your judgment is maimed! Stay here with me, forget about all other idiots in the world!"_

I tried to think of thoughts that would make her go. Raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens, the smell of leather bound books, Josh Nichol's eyes. What? I was surprised that in that moment I started think of of Josh, his unmitigated kindness and simple reasoning. I missed him a lot without ever figuring out just what it was that I missed. The things that had angered me during the time I had known him with Drake and during the trial turned out to be just the things, in retrospect, that shined. What a wonderful disposition he had! His personality wasn't influenced in any significant way by those around him. He didn't try to imitate popularity or airs, become less goofy, he just did the right thing. He knew he was smart AND unpopular and didn't care, in fact he was as happy as a lark! And like a dog remaining loyal to those he cared about no matter what. How could I just accept who I was and be happy about it like he did? Not blame others for my misery? Life isn't suppose to be like this. Wasn't it possible to shift direction, to change where I am headed?

I opened my eyes and turned towards Melinda to tell her about Josh but she was gone.

It was the boy with the chubby limbs and mop of black hair that helped me out of that hour, gave me some hope that I could be accepting and happy. He was my Budai, my Hotei / 笑佛, all I had to do was rub his belly to bring me good fortune.


	4. Chapter 4: My c

**Title: Mindy's Plan**

**Disclaimer: **Nickelodeon and Dan Schneider own everything. I only waste time and make no money on this venture.

**Chapter Four: My _c_  
**

I admit I did entertain various revenge fantasies for my return to school after my time at the Mental Rehabilitation Clinic, but quickly got over those ideas. Instead, I designed myself a new identity, a personality that I knew would prove more successful than the last one. I had a childlike excitement in the promise that I might discover something that would make my life so much better now. And I found it immediately - despite my best intentions when I first saw Josh again my heart took a leap.

I was _so_ happy to see him, _so_ unutterably happy. What was it about him, I wondered, that drew me to him, given me such sudden confidence? He already had changed so much since the last time I saw him, he was at least 3 inches taller and fifty pounds lighter. The fullness that disappeared from his cheeks made his eyes even bigger and brighter like they were lit from behind by the light of his sheer kindness--naive and effortless. I felt an unexpected attraction instantly. There was something so appealing, so desirable, so eminently _wantable_ about him now.

His character, however, remained boyish and foolish. When he saw me and broke into look of panic which quickly evolved into an embarrassed smile and a frozen expression of an anxious child. Yet these imperfections added a touch of humanity to the package that made him just right for me. My lonely little heart cracked open with a small hope. If he were perfect I would never be able to get him and at that moment snaring him became my new goal. I knew was there were two paths ahead of me, one that was flat, lonely and led me back to the troubled lonely life I had always been a part of, and another path that led somewhere high and bright and better that I could only reach with Josh.

How did I get him? Another girl would have been more subtle, drawn her prey to her, what do I know about process or patience? I grabbed the opportunity to be his partner in history and devised a study schedule that would keep him near me for hours a day. Another boy would have been suspicious, but not our dear Josh. Fortunately the boy was so girl-attention deprived that it only took a day to make him my boyfriend. He must have always known we were meant for one another. He had to have seen that we were alike not so much by what we had in common with each other as by what they lack in common with everyone else around us.

I was so happy with him, he was simply the most _amazing_ human being. He held open doors for me, called me his "puddin' cup", he smiled with a grin as wide as the Pacific whenever he saw me, and he was so funny! He could make me laugh so hard and all the girls and jocks I hated would turn to look at us. Happiness made us stronger than everyone around us.

But the best part was when he was feeling brave he would rake my arm gently with his fingers and lower his head down to kiss me with lips so full and soft it was like kissing Cumulus clouds.

Perhaps that old grief I felt at the clinic had sapped the hate out of me, but I believe it was Josh who taught me how to live. He wasn't totally disconnected with his surroundings and people as I was. He found beauty in things I couldn't see: the sound of a knuckles rapping on glass, the jaundiced glow of a street light in a misty night, chrysanthemums in the flower pot, old people holding hands, the littlest thing could make him smile. He made me a "new me", a better me, and I could never go back to where I had been before. I wanted the old gone for good because anything is better than the monotony of that hateness and loneliness.

Oh, if only Josh could have remained my _c_, if only he could have been the _constant_ in my life. I wish I could stay in this memory forever, I wish I could extend these happy days but it is impossible.

Impossible because of Drake.


End file.
